


The Unfortunate Ballad Of Sir Grigor The Scamp

by FangamerBowiextreme



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Comedy, Crack, Goblins, Original Character(s), Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24491830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangamerBowiextreme/pseuds/FangamerBowiextreme
Summary: A comedic one-shot depicting a day in parallel to the events of the film. Sir Grigor, a goblin in His Majesty's army, has planned extensively around one day. This day.  His only day, to finally woo his Sweet Bonnie Bae.  Nothing can go wrong.  Nothing.  -Written in verse.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	The Unfortunate Ballad Of Sir Grigor The Scamp

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for an LFFL challenge. The prompt was to retell the events of the film from the perspective of any side character. This also happens to be something a friend of mine has been begging me to write for several years now, so yay for two birds with one stone. This is a poem. I've never really written poetry before, so it was a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. 
> 
> Dedicated to my friend Lauren. It only took 6 years...

It was a day like any other. 

A bright day, during balmy midsummer.

It was a day that, once begun, 

Would surely end in disaster. 

He woke bright and early, with a pep in his step.

Today was the day, the day they’d first met.

Sir Grigor he was, Grigor the Scamp. 

A rowdy old goblin, a knight, and a tramp.

He had two eyes, black as pools.

And whiskers that were well-groomed, 

which wound around spools.

He was dapper, and kind, and handsome, and clever.

And today was the day he’d win her forever.

Her name was Bonnie, Sweet Bonnie Bae.

And she had purple hair that was wired and frayed.

She was a fine Lady, with both stature and sass.

She reared many chickens -a true woman of class.

But hark, dear reader!

Forgive the narration, as Grigor would say.

One simply tumbles into verse when recalling _his Bae_.

She had a crooked-knobbed nose, and a nice round rump.

She smelled of old sneakers, and she lived in the dump. 

She was really quite grisley, odd, and profuse,

With out-of-place curves, and morals too loose.

But oh, how he loved her. Oh, how he pined.

To be with her forever, and be sweetly entwined. 

And today was the day. The day long at last.

The day he would woo that sweet bulbous lass.

A day well crafted and long in the making, 

When, executed perfectly, would make her his for the taking.

He’d knock on her door and bid her ‘Good day’, 

And then to lunch in the bog they soon would away.

He primped and he preened, and he worked out the kinks.

He doused behind his ears all her favorite stinks. 

And so on that day that was surely fated,

He set out on a mission to swoon! His love consecrated! 

But as he marched in time, he heard a loud cuss.

The town was all scattered in panic and mischief, a peculiar fuss.

‘A girl!’ they said. ‘A girl in the Labyrinth!’

‘She is running amuck and wreaking much havoc!’

Odd, he thought, but forgot right quick.

For he was shoved in the side by an outright prick.

“Hey you!” he cried. “What is the matter?”

“There’s a girl in the Labyrinth, in search of her brother!”

With stutter and stammer and fumbling step, 

The goblin who’d bumped him looked fiercely unkempt.

He ran on and into the crowd. 

And then Grigor scowled, 

it was dusty, and dirty, and much too loud.

He would not let this day be ruined by clamour.

He walked away briskly, and dreamed of amour. 

And so to the dump, he made his way,

To knock on her door and bid her ‘Good day’.

He knocked on it thrice and it opened too quick,

And he was hit on the head with a hard wooden stick.

“My Bonnie! My Bae! My Lady, it’s me!”

“Sir Grigor, your lover. What has provoked thee?”

“Who?” she asked and stood in the door.

She held a broom in one hand and drove it to the floor.

“Who are you? Why are you here?”

“I shall call the guards if you dare to come near!”

“My Love!” Grigor exclaimed, with a hand on his chest.

“It is I, Grigor! Who loves you the best!”

“Do you not remember when last we spoke?”

“You were fluttering your eyes at that gross Grimble bloke.”

“But today I have come to take you away.”

“To win you and woo you in a great lover’s play.”

“I’ve brought many gifts, trinkets and such,”

“To add to your pack. Look, there is much!”

“A broken accordion to drape on your back,”

“A bear with one eye, and a kite with some slack.”

“Two marbles, and a rusty wire.”

“A pair of old socks, and a bicycle tire.”

“I have all this, and many things more,”

“If only you’ll dine with me now, down by the bog’s shore.”

She looked at him, and scowled, and gave him a huff,

Then reached out and jabbed him right in his scruff.

“What nonsense is this? Have you not heard?”

“A girl runs the Labyrinth! Sir, you’re absurd!”

“You are a knight, and what do you do?”

“You flee your post once excitement ensues.”

“No, My Lady! You have it all wrong!”

“I’ve taken leave this day, t’was planned all along!”

“Away with me, please, and then you’ll see.”

“I have many ways of caring for thee.”

She stood, and she stared, and she tapped her clubbed foot,

Then her eyes traveled down to his bag of fine loot.

“Fine,” she said, and scratched at her head.

She tossed away the broom, and took his arm instead.

And away they went, those lovers so gay,

To the bog to picnic, on that midsummer day. 

He lay down a blanket, and smoothed out the edges,

The perfect spot he’d chosen, hidden behind hedges. 

And she plopped herself down and looked through his bag, 

And in that moment he decided to brag.

“I have many fine things, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“I’ve collected them all especially for thee.”

“A little dead bird that lay in the street.”

“And also a box that carries a beat.” 

She thumbed with disinterest then cast aside,

The bird and the bag and all else inside.

She sat back on her haunches and stared with hard eyes,

As he pulled from his pocket a squished burger and fries.

“I’ve brought you your favorite! I heard you once say,”

“That trash from the Aboveground, was best after one day.”

She took it in hand, and then in her mouth.

She gobbled it down, then turned to the south.

A sudden shout could now be heard,

Traces of scuffle, a fight, they were sure.

She jumped to her feet and crouched in the bush, 

And when Grigor joined, she told him to shush.

“Do you see that there? Across the way?”

“Sir Didymus will not let that girl get away.” 

They watched as his comrade covered the bridge,

His posture was confident and stern as a ridge.

“Oh,” she cried, in a meek little voice.

“Sir Didymus will stop her, and then we’ll rejoice.”

But the little fox failed and made a new vow, 

And together they watched that treacherous knight bow.

And then the girl walked along the plank.

And oh, how Bonnie laughed when it then broke and sank.

“Good riddance!” she said, waved them on off,

Turned back around, then gave him a huff.

And oh, how he panicked, Sir Grigor the Scamp.

He scurried on after her, his hands and armpits damp.

His plans were all failing and they had hardly begun.

By now they should be naked, lying under the sun.

He followed her back to her home in the junkyard, 

Where he then planned to reveal his glorious trump card.

A heart he had made, from pieces of glass,

From bottles, and bobbles, and things he had smashed.

He’d worked many nights and guarded it close. 

For the barracks were a place of knightly reproach.

They came to her door and he reached in his pocket,

Then Grigor realized that he had forgot it. 

He stomped his foot and scowled at the ground, 

Then both looked up at a peculiar sound.

The girl! Yes she! Falling from the sky!

She looked weary and dazed, and neither knew why.

“What is she doing? Falling in my dump.”

“I should take my broom and give her a thump!”

And this she would do, Sir Grigor, he knew.

So he stopped her, and calmed her with an idea to chew.

“Wait for me here. Ignore the girl.”

“I have one more treat to fetch for you, it will give you a whirl.”

“Sit on your stoop, or in your bed.”

“Where ever is best, and rest your sweet head.”

“I shall return very quickly, you shall see.”

“There are no knights as speedy as me.”

“No, I will not. I cannot sit here.”

“But you are right. That girl is a nuisance,

I shall steer clear!”

“Then away with me!” he cried, and took her in hand.

“That is a better idea than what I had planned.” 

“Come to the castle. To my cot in the barracks.”

“I will show you great treasures. Give you a heart, I swear it!”

“What are you saying, Sir Grigor, you scamp?”

“Do you think me some loose trolly or tramp?”

“No! Goodness, no! Never! Oh, never!”

“I would not think of myself something so clever.”

“I only wished to show you my heart.”

“A literal thing that I keep in a cart.”

“I’ve made it for you, and oh how it glitters.”

“Please, trust me, look how I shiver.”

She eyed him with pursed lips that were wrinkled and round.

This would not be the first time a man thought her a clown.

But oh how he tried, that sweet little Grigor.

And oh, how he really did shake and shiver.

She agreed on the condition that he leave her his wares.

He did, and did happily, beyond compare. 

He bowed low before her, and then they were off. 

And he skipped and he bounded, 

and she openly scoffed.

But by the time they entered their city so fair, 

They found it torn asunder by brutal warfare. 

The girl? Again? Yes, it was she.

Leading an army consisting of three.

They were storming the castle and tearing it down.

And at such horror, Sir Girgor did frown. 

Chaos ran rampant. The streets in dismay.

And oh, how this riled Sweet Bonnie Bae.

“Look what she’s done!”

“We must stop her at once!”

“Just look at those boulders!

“See how they bounce!”

And she took up a spear from a fallen young knight,

And charged in the fray eager to fight.

And follow after her, did silly Sir Grigor.

Without spear, without shield, with nothing but vigor.

She fought off the boulders and fought off the fright.

She fought off everything with terrible might.

And oh, how he loved her. Oh, how he pined.

For his Sweet Bonnie Bae, grunting, and covered in grime. 

And in a moment of unbridled bliss,

He took her in his arms and gave her a kiss.

And she stumbled back and away from his ardour,

And no sooner was she crushed by a boulder.

“My Love!” he cried, and fell to the ground.

But no response came, except for a weak ‘eep’ sound.

He pushed off the boulder, and pulled her to embrace,

And she was right quick to punch him in the face.

“Look what you’ve done to me! You silly old fool!”

“My leg is broken! Is fate so cruel?”

Indeed it was, on that fated day.

On the day when they were meant to love and to play.

And to be together, forever and ever. 

But now, all was lost. His dream had been severed.

And as she pushed to her feet, 

They turned and heard the call for retreat.

And away they fled, the goblins en masse.

And there was Sir Grigor playing the ass.

She glared towards him and, with a turn of the nose,

Was very careful with the words that she chose. 

She called him a cad, a lech, and a fool. 

She called him an imbecile, a romantic tool,

She called him many names as she found a walking stick,

And she even told him that he, Sir Grigor! was the prick.

They then parted ways, she with a hobble,

And he with a heart rendered to rubble.

He returned to the castle, to his dusty old cot,

And found that everything was destroyed on the spot.

The beds were turned up from all the confusion,

And even his crate where he housed his delusion.

He fell to the floor, where his precious gift lay shattered.

The heart of his heart, irreparably battered.

He gathered the pieces, and carried them away,

To a corner in a hall, where he sat in dismay.

What could he do? What had gone wrong?

Should he have shaved? Should he have sang her a song?

This day was fated. He’d precariously planned it.

All would be well, were it not for that bandit.

For that queer little human who fell from the sky,

Who dashed through the kingdom and turned it awry.

He glared and he glowered,

And his look now soured,

And he sobbed and he cried,

And he wished he had died.

Oh, how he loved her. Oh, how he pined.

For his Sweet Bonnie Bae, who had left him behind.

And then in the darkness, at the end of the hall,

He heard the footsteps of someone quite tall.

T’was the King he saw, looking beaten.

And when he glanced up, saw Grigor the Cretin. 

Grigor should move. He should stand and bow.

He knew this, but it was hard with glass pieces in tow.

He did so regardless, and the pieces they scattered.

And then the King stopped in the wake of such clatter.

And oh, how Girgor shook. Oh, how he shivered.

Oh, how his knees knocked and his little boots quivered.

This day was a disaster, that much was clear.

And now, he’d hindered His Majesty and expected the spear.

For his life to end would surely be best.

For fate had betrayed him, in the cruelest of jests.

But as the King stood, no reprimand came.

Only silence, and worry, and miserable shame.

“Apologies,” Grigor said, and picked up the splatter.

And then the King asked, “What is the matter?”

Sir Grigor froze and choked on his sniffling,

His eyes grew wide and he started piffling. 

“T’was a fine day. T’was the best of them all!”

“Then _she_ came and ruined it all!” 

“I was to win a fine Lady. To love her for life.”

“But then that girl interrupted, and brought nothing but strife.”

“I made her this gift, my own heart to give her,”

“But it was smashed to pieces in all the disorder.”

“And now I fear I have lost my wife.”

“My true love hates me, and possibly for life.”

“This heart I made to serve as my token,”

“And now, I despair, for both are broken.” 

The King stared in silence, but still he listened,

To Grigor’s sad words, laced with tears that glistened.

And as he went on, and dribbled, and shook,

The King thought that he knew that look.

He knew that feeling as one of his own,

One that twisted, and pained him, and left him alone.

And thus, the sight of the goblin made him feel oddly bereft,

With thoughts of the girl who’d needed him, used him, then left.

He sighed, and hunkered down to one knee,

Looked at the goblin, and then the debris.

This was pointless, and he should not have cared,

But his only thought was of the girl he had spared. 

He reached out a hand, and with the twirl of his finger,

Showed mercy to the goblin, that sad Sir Grigor. 

The magic that spun fixed the trinket anew,

And it only took him a moment or two.

A heart once more, shiny and mended,

For Grigor to take to his lovely intended.

And as the King stared down at the trivial thing,

Saw the act had lessened some of the sting

Of the hurt that ached in both their chests.

But away she had left, and he knew that was best.

The girl had written them a strange romance,

But at least now one could have a second chance. 


End file.
